


a safe way to fall

by Chumly



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Connor is a ballerina on ice with issues, Ice Skating, M/M, and fluff, the usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chumly/pseuds/Chumly
Summary: The Ice Skating AU no one has asked for.In which Gavin is just his old, ratty self being forced to spend time on ice and Connor is a graceful dancer who doesn't know how to let himself be happy after all the trauma he suffered.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. a crack in an iceberg

That sly, conniving woman. Giving him that kind of an evil present for Christmas. He might have as well received a slap in the face and it would make him much happier. 

What so great about ice skating anyway. Tina only does it because her super-active girlfriend used to be a hockey player and now she's taking her on romantic dates to the freezer. She bragged to him how good she’s got and how much fun it would be if only he joined them sometimes. She knows that this is the only way he would even consider going. 

All the excuses have gotten stolen from him and Gavin has no choice but to sharpen his blades and break his spine. He hates loving that woman. It’s more hassle than what he bargained for. 

He does it for her, no other reason. Remembering the many times Tina saved him when he felt like there was no tomorrow, when today tried to snatch his soul away. When he thought that the only pleasure he could ever know would be born from alcohol and blood. She was his life-saver and he would become her anchor. They worked well this way. Until she found someone she could love beyond the feeble relationship made out of necessity for survival. That’s when everything in his world started crashing down again. The ground under his feet becoming cold and slippery. 

“Get your lazy ass up, Gav. And stop sulking.” Three times he’s fallen already in the ten minutes of ice-suffering he has been forced to endure. Tina offered to kindly hold his hand but he refused, feeling like a dependant child. _Very uncool_. She should be gracing the ice with her girlfriend who is speeding by so fast he could only see a purple blur. 

They’re wearing matching jackets, too. He may just throw up soon. If not from the icky lovey-doviness then from the onslaught of strangers minding their own business, not noticing his struggles. Maybe it’s because of the gaudy scowl he has on. 

_Meeting someone, my ass._ Tina attempted to coax him in that manner but he knows better. It’s too late for him, all his hopes for a non-dreadful future are rotting in the gutter somewhere. He would end up alone and regretful, that is the fate he made his peace with. So why is his chest getting tight, why does it sting seeing the random couples holding hands and laughing. He shouldn't have come. 

They’re all looking at him like he’s about to get violently murdered. Okay, so not everybody, but this one tall, handsome guy who seems to be best friends with the ice. The way he skates is just something else, it’s almost like he’s dancing. Gavin intensifies his hostile expression as to show that he would not be intimidated by some pretty skater who is making his way to him. _Oh god_ , he has no chance of escaping, because no matter how hard he tries his feet just won’t listen. He loses his balance, ending up splattered on the icy ground again. This will be his death, surely. His entire shitty life leading up to this moment. He deserves it, should have been a better person. 

It’s freezing and his whole body is an aching mess. He’s too old for this, or so his bones are telling him. Just let him lie there, he’s too tired to go anywhere, to stand up. 

There are two cold hands, trying to lift him up, he thinks. 

Must be Tina or her other half. 

It’s not. 

  
  


⛸️

He has to remind himself why he came here over and over again until the words lose all meaning and his mind becomes blank. 

It’s been a year. One agonizingly long year of pain and healing. He considered quitting, at one point, but the love he has for the feeling of being free the only way he knows how was stronger than the weakness his self-doubt cooked up. 

And so he’s here now - Connor Anderson, one of America’s top figure skaters, cowering at the benches.

One single slip-up and his name faded away, leaving behind a trace of past endeavors that somehow lead him to this moment. It’s not that he’s afraid, being here in a new city, unrecognized by anyone. It’s more about losing faith in himself, in his abilities that once brought him more attention and admiration than he knew what to do with. 

He’s well aware that he still has it in, the “talent”. He was told so many times that he’s got one, but only he knows that isn’t quite the truth. Hard work and passion, that is what pushed him to success. And his strict coach. He sacrificed most of his childhood learning how to dance on ice, but he doesn't regret a single minute of it. He just wishes it could have lasted a little longer, his waking dream, the sheen being of being the spotlight, living for something he truly loved, something he was born to do. 

His career was over, there was no denying it. But no one can take ice skating away from him. He is drawn to it. No matter where he is, it will always find him. 

  
  


The rink is bursting at the seams with people enthusiastically sliding away, just enjoying their free time. All but one raggedy individual, who is keen on making the ice his enemy. Never letting go of the barrier, barely moving at all. And now he’s getting closely acquainted with the cold surface itself. 

Connor has no choice but to pity that guy. He missed about more than thirty years of practice, or that’s how old he looks. Coming on forty, is his guess. 

Somehow, this person’s fight with his feet gives him some sort of courage or maybe it's hope. 

This time he’s here only for his own sake and nothing is going to hurt him . 

So he makes that one, most important step to finally be in the place he feels most at home. 

He can’t say that he isn’t terrified to death now, that he trusts his feet completely and is ready to fly. Quite the opposite, really. Connor is left petrified, the ice turning into liquid, swallowing him whole. His body won’t move. He should have been prepared for this scenario. Or he could just delete it entirely. He’s stronger than his fears, after all. That was the encouragement his therapist feeds him every week, anyway. 

But he believes it, for better or worse. So he closes his eyes and slides his left foot forwards and lets the other one follow. He hasn’t forgotten. He can do this. His eyes are becoming wet and he has to open them so he won’t kill someone with the speed he already achieved. 

He’s home. Properly alive for the first time this year. He thinks he can even start liking the obnoxious pop music blasting from the speakers above the rink. 

It feels wrong keeping this joy all for himself though. Not when he knows there’s a person having an awful time on the ice just a few feet away. 

# ⛸️

“Someone could slice you in half if you stay lying down like that.” 

_Smartass._

Okay, so maybe the guy has the voice of a heavenly angel but that doesn’t mean… He takes one look at the stranger’s face and his heart stops. Or maybe it was his brain that took a break from functioning. 

Was the man made in Gavin’s personal dream factory just so that he can get tortured? Must have been so, because he could lose himself staring into those endless soft eyes, or at those perfect lips, or at.. 

“Are you okay? Your face is awfully red.” 

_Oh shit_ , he’s being creepy now. Time for some words, if his frozen brain kindly allows. 

“‘am fine. Just these things don’t fucking like me.” He furiously waves as his skates-clad feet and is about to fall down again, when the handsome stranger’s hold saves him. 

“Your first time I presume?”  
He is given a warm smile, the like that is reserved for nice or pretty people, one that no one thinks about sharing with Gavin “sewer rat” Reed. 

So he scowls in retaliation. 

“Yeah, well. Wasn’t my idea though.” He scans the crowded rink for two purple idiots when he sees Tina on the other side, giving him a thumbs up like the devil she is. 

“I see.” The taller man doesn’t spot her and he thanks his skimpy luck for that too. He wants to run, well, skate away right at this moment but something other than his inability to do so prevents him from that. He doesn’t mind this encounter. 

“My name is Connor, I’m…,” the stranger - no, Connor cuts himself off, looking pensive. 

“What’s uh.. What’s your name?” 

Why the fuck is Connor maintaing direct eye contact with him all the time. It is hard to look away, like he has Gavin under a spell or something. 

Normally, he would tell the other person to fuck off and to keep minding their own business, but for some mysterious reason he’s happy to tell him all that he allows himselfs to. Maybe he’s more touched-starved than he realized. The couple of instances Connor’s hand met his body awoke something warm inside his chest and that is something he’s unable to deny himself. 

“Gavin. My name is Gavin.”

He loathes how desperate he is right now. It’s as if his thirsty body is taking control over all of his actions. He even attempts a smile. _Disgusting_. 

“Well then, Gavin, let’s skate.” Connor takes his steady hand in Gavin’s trembling one and looks at him for permission or any other kind of reaction. All that Gavin can input from this is Connor’s hand is not that larger than his but it’s much warmer and softer. His thoughts are going dangerous places so he wills his face to pale itself, most likely failing horribly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. This is meant to be fun.” Yes, it’s so much fun imagining placing his grabby hands on Connor’s squishable cheeks or shutting him up by bringing his lips up to his and god he has to turn his horny brain off before it gets him in trouble. 

“I won’t let you fall.”  
He doubts that very much. 

\---

Gavins holds on for dear life when Connor decides it would be a swell idea to take him away from the barrier, his only safe place in this mad refrigerator. He is not afraid, it’s just that they’re moving too fast. His feet haven’t dared to get unstuck from each other since they’ve started. Connor basically pulls him like he’s nothing but an ordinary sleigh. He hates how it makes him feel. Embarrassed, mostly. 

“Try pushing one of your feet forward.” It’s easy for Connor to say, since he acts like he was born with ice-skates on. Must be nice, not to be a human failure. Not that Gavin is one, but sometimes it seems to him like he might not be far from that title. 

He’s too out of his element to argue so he does as he’s asked to. Okay, that must look pathetic. He manages to gain the tiniest amount of speed on his own and would have had enough had it not been for the prettiest man in the room blessing him with words of praise. 

“See? It’s not that difficult. Now for the other one.” 

After some time and about more rounds than he can count he’s able to stand on his own without tumbling down and “skate” next to Connor. It’s more an awkward feet shuffle than anything resembling what everyone else passing them by does. Even the snivelling toddlers look more convincing as skaters than Gavin. 

“No one can do the axel their first hour in skates, Gavin. It will take some time before you get used to this. But you can’t go anywhere but up from here.” 

He has no idea about half the things Connor is talking about, all he can focus on is the way his names sounds spoken through those perfect lips. 

He's afraid to face what comes after this ends. He’d rather fall ten more times over than having to face the consequences of allowing himself to be treated this kindly. What is he supposed to do with this experience? Throw it away, forget that it ever happened? Agonize over all that could never be? He wants to punch someone, probably himself. 

His thoughts get interrupted by the rumbling voice coming out from the intercom above them. Their time on ice is over.

There aren’t that many people with them in the arena anymore. It feels lonely, but for a completely unrelated reason. 

Connor gracefully turns to face him directly. He was so glad that he didn’t have to look at that stupidly beautiful man during their practice. Now it just hits him in his heart and somewhere else, maybe. 

“See you next time, then? I’ll make you into a proper skater yet.” He is gifted with a soft smile that makes him agree with what Connor proposed. 

Before he can catch up with what the fuck is going on he’s sitting on a bench somewhere warmer, breathless and blushing. 

He didn’t even get the chance to ask him.. well almost anything. 

_Next time_ , then. 

Tina won’t ever let him live it down. 

# ⛸️

He decides to take a proper look at the scar for the first time since he got it. To make sure it’s actually there, that it hasn’t magically healed since the time it went silent, but also because he gained some new, untapped sense of confidence. It feels like he is being handed a helping hand in return as he slowly pulls down the well-worn pants. Except the room is very dim and he can barely see anything when he looks down at his bare leg. Maybe he chooses not to because when he hears his name being called from somewhere inside the house he is relieved. Could be that the time is not right, not now. _Some day._

“God fucking dammit, Connor! You’ve been stuck there for almost an hour and I’m about to piss myself!” 

The grumbly voice reminds him that he selfishly locked himself in the bathroom just to have some privacy because that is the rarest commodity in his life right now. He puts the pants back on, promptly ignoring the shame that manages to sneak through his defenses and opens the door behind which awaits an imposing bear-like human. 

His _father._ He doesn’t really like to be called that anymore, though. Connor has been reassured plenty of times that the fact that they are not blood-related has nothing to do with that. And on good days, he almost believes it. 

“Sorry, Hank.” Connor lends him a smile that is asking whether it is the bad mood that is frowning at him or the man himself. 

  
  


It’s not that he feels unwelcomed here, in the one-bedroom house that is already too small for the towering man that Hank is and for his equally sizable St Bernard friend. It was his father himself that had suggested he comes living with him after everything in his world started crumbling to pieces. He did specifically say “before you get back on your feet” though, and Connor was afraid it wasn’t just because it’s a phrase people often use in these kinds of situations. He has been able to use his feet just fine for some time now, and for more than walking. Everything other than that is the problematic part. 

He doesn’t like living here, sleeping on the couch like a drifter, having to depend on someone else for the smallest amount of stability in life. It feels like he’s about to suffocate everytime he has to search for words just to put an end to the uncomfortable silence that tends to form between them. He feels like he’s in a way of Hank’s self-destructive life-style, because he can’t help himself when he surreptitiously tries to nudge his everyday habits the healthier way. And it hurts him, having to exist like that day after day. Like a dead-weight dropped on an old man’s shoulders. 

But it’s not all bad, either. He likes Sumo - that’s the name Hank’s dog came with - taking the drooly canine for walks, rubbing his soft fur every day after he wakes up, nuzzling his perpetually sad face, these moments are something Connor doesn’t regret.

Then he catches one glimpse of the bag in which he keeps his precious skates and all the good that has been inside of him turns into a mass of sorrow, grief for all that he’s lost. He could have just gotten rid of them or hidden them somewhere where they wouldn’t haunt him like that but that was just another one of his lies. It was physically impossible for him to do so. Because every time he even thought of it, of giving up the last remnants of the only time in his life that truly mattered, his stomach lurched and he couldn’t stop himself from emptying it whole. 

Until one day he couldn’t hold it inside of him anymore. The voice begging him to put them on again got so loud it wouldn’t fit into a headache.  
Doing that could have been the second hardest thing in his life and it probably really was but it was alleviated by the fumbling man that caught Connor’s eye the second he saw how he struggled with the ice. The fight wasn’t the same as his one, but it still resonated. 

He received so much more than just courage born of pity. The man, Gavin, managed to give him a new perspective, and not only to ice skating. There is something about the person that makes him redirect his thoughts towards their brief time together every so often. Something he is too afraid to delve any deeper in than he already has. It hasn’t even been a week and he feels like he can’t wait for the day when the rink opens for public again. A month ago he couldn’t picture himself ever looking forward to putting on his skates like that, in a way that wasn’t connected to fear or memories of past long lost. It was just the anticipation of having to hold onto someone while doing the one thing he used to love more than anything was a thing that made his current living situation worth enduring. It made him ache in a whole different way. 

  
  


Connor doesn’t allow himself to dream about things like that, about sharing more than a casual friendship with someone. Not anymore. It was hard enough to let go the first time, so many years ago. Part of him still carries it with him, the sorrow that comes with losing someone you entrusted your entire life to. It was too late when he realized what a mistake he’d made and it took all that was left just to refuse to get broken by it. His heart started cracking then, though. The fall has just delivered the final blow.  
He always imagined having an empty space in the place where once there was love, hope and a thousand other good things. 

Now he knows that hasn’t entirely been the case. He can feel his blood flowing through there, bringing colour to his pale cheeks. It’s like getting rid of the life support he has been hooked up to and taking a breath with his own lungs for the first time in a year, if not longer. But the oxygen is too overwhelming and he doesn’t know what to do with it, if he should expel the excess one because it is simply too much to take all at once. He is certain that if he didn’t do so, it would get into his head and he would lose it in consequence. 

It’s not like he is dying, after all. Though at times it truly felt like that just might be the reason for the times when he tries to look into his future and fails. Like there is nothing for him to see, because it ends before it can truly get there. 

Having to abandon so many certainties all at once usually leads to that sort of mental weather, he is well aware. And he does try to get better, to stop fighting with each of his waking seconds. He goes to therapy and that should be enough. It would be if he believed that he is doing it in order to heal himself and not to answer to some social standards or to reassure Hank he doesn’t have to worry. It’s mainly the latter. 

“You okay?”

He doesn’t even notice the man entering the living room. He always gets carried away somewhere deep inside his mind when he overthinks like this. The surrounding worlds ceases to exist and it’s just him and the barrage of inputs that will never stop. It’s detrimental to not only his health but it’s sort of an addiction for Connor. And the high is more of a low than anything else. 

He stops absentmindedly petting Sumo and looks up from his daze. 

That there is the main cause for Connor to put himself back together, or at least pretend to.

The worry lines prominently etched between Hank’s eyebrows, the glint in his eyes telling him that he still cares, despite his personality flaws.

So he forces himself to be strong. 

So he got over himself and went to visit the rink Hank had blatantly pointed him to a few days ago. 

So he will give the old man a sincere-looking smile and say that he is indeed doing okay.

# ⛸️

It has been a very long three days. Gavin had a hard time living with himself, trapped inside his arguing mind. On one hand, last Saturday he had the most fun in years - without getting wasted. On the other, self-sabotaging one, he’d rather kill himself than having to google an ice rink schedule to find out when the next public session will be. Maybe that is a slight exaggeration but between this and asking Tina about it he thinks offing himself would be the easiest option. They haven’t talked properly since and not only because he’s too self-aware after what had happened there, but because their work schedules don't align. He leaves the precinct an hour before her shifts even begin. So he resorts to texting her surreal messages that even he can’t understand at times. It’s safe, comfortable and he doesn’t have to wreck his brain about it. 

  
  


The small, semi-disturbing noise that has not been bothering him till now morphs into an orchestra of mewles and scratches. He turns from the computer screen to observe the scene acting out right behind him. His psychotic feline enemy is bound on ripping his sofa to tiny little pieces from which she could make a perfect nest to contemplate her next evil plan in. He lets out a deep sigh betraying that this has not been the first time Snowflake put her claws to work. It seems impossible to think that the feral beast once was a small, helpless kitten that needed constant care and cuddles.

Gavin vacates the room because no one dare touches queen Snowflake when she’s “in the mood”, taking his laptop with him. 

His bedroom is cold and dark, tinted blue. It could be the cold lighting or the street view seeping in or it could just be the loneliness exaggerating things again. He has been feeling like that for far too long now, wasting his time lying alone in his bed and wallowing in the sadness stemming from the empty space next to him. _Inside of him._

He looks out to observe the snowflakes that are not set on making his life miserable unlike the one that has just knocked something over next door. He has seen them hundreds of times before but they never looked this beautiful. 

_Next Thursday, 6 pm._

Gavin can hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry but ice skating is like 15% of my life so this kind of happened by itself
> 
> not to be negative but it might seem that I was struggling with words as it was being written and that's 100% accurate because they're just all over the place in this. I apologise, it seems like someone has dug (diggen :'''''DDD) a hole in my brain :D 
> 
> I hope it's worth continuing this story, I have THINGS planned ohohho


	2. playing on a thin ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor keeps falling because Gavin can't hold him up properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst, but this time they're wearing SKATES

Ice-skating has never made him this nervous.

Connor can remember the first time he put his skates on and stepped upon the ice, body small and scrawny, prone to breaking. But he stood tall despite ending down on his knees or butt, sometimes even his head. Nothing could deter him from getting up every time, for all the pain and humiliation. Nothing could stop him from pursuing his dreams. 

A little boy who was mesmerized by the pretty doll-like figure-skaters performing their magic inside the box of wonders, and as he was watching, he just knew that was where his future would lie. 

So he remained unbroken, for the most of his life.

Even now, when everything’s over and done, he can’t give his dreams up, not entirely. He had lived through them, turned his visualization into reality, never looking anywhere else but forward. 

And that made him want to just set his sights backwards, to keep reliving those glamorous years in his mind for the rest of his life. Because if it wasn’t for that then the other viable option was the drudgery of an ordinary life. And just thinking about it made him feel hollow, like he would be keeping himself alive just for the sake of it. He despised that feeling. 

But not anymore. 

It was only several days ago that he realized that that doesn’t have to be the extent of it. That maybe there’s more to his future than the bleak withering that had settled down inside of him after he had lost his only purpose. 

Connor is full of rushing thoughts and anxieties, of trembling hands and beating hearts.

He is flying miles high without even knowing how he managed to get himself unstuck from the cold and unforgiving ground. 

But the best thing about it is that there’s someone else with him, a person who is the very reason for his leap into the vast, unexplored sky. 

He is holding his warm hand with all his strength since it’s the only thing keeping him up. Without it, he would  _ fall _ , and that might just break him for good this time.

It’s not like he isn’t falling already. But it’s a different kind of disaster. One that is worth taking all the risks for. 

Connor doesn’t know if he’s afraid or not, because all he can focus on is how right this feels. He doesn’t want to imagine it ever stopping, he can’t put himself in the majority of his days when he’s everywhere else, when this is just another uncertain memory. Not now when he’s soaring with the insurance of safety, when he can picture never getting tired of doing this exact same thing over and over for the rest of his life. 

Like the time he’s not here skating with Gavin is just a pointless filler. 

  
  


“Hey, careful there!--oh”

And just like that their backs are met with the freezing ice surface. It seems that they pulled another couple down with them. It was difficult paying any attention to his surroundings when his heart was overflowing with amalgamation of varying emotions. It was mostly the joy of the present moment that removed him from the plane of this reality and kept him in the land of sweet possibilities. 

But he fell. He caused other people to get hurt. He messed up.. 

It is happening  _ again. _

Before he has the chance to react in any way his breathing gets cut off and he is left paralyzed, his brain taking him back to his past. 

To the fateful moment that started his misery. 

_ “Look alive! The finals are in three days and here you are acting like your entire career doesn’t depend on your victory.” _

_ He is tired of listening to his couch’s incessant yelling. They have been practising for hours on end and his muscles are begging for rest. But he won’t complain. He has to do his utmost best, because that’s what he was born to do, after all.  _

_ Without this, he’s nothing.  _

_ “Let’s do it from the beginning! Svietlana, focus on getting your quad salchow perfect this time! Connor, I wanna see you put energy into that triple axel this time! Imagine being out there in front of thousands of people, think about how they would feel if they saw you performing such a half-assed job!” _

_ He can’t stand this man’s obviously russian accent, it’s driving him mad. Or it could be the fact he hardly gets any sleep these days, being too high-strung to allow himself to let go of his thoughts that were bringing him places he wasn’t even aware he is able of conjuring up.  _

_ And his partner. Despite her being a legal american citizen, he can hardly understand the mangled words coming out of her painfully red lips. Him and Svietlana Bobrova were paired about six months ago and he is still getting used to spending this much time with her. It’s hard to ignore the looks she’s throwing him, like he’s about to get devoured by her the second he stops paying attention. But one thing he has to admit, she’s the best female skater he’s had the honour to dance with.  _

_ He has to remind himself that this is it, the dream that decided his whole life. He has to believe that deep down under the sweat and exhaustion is hiding the ultimate happiness. It’s not going to get better than this. So he can’t afford to lose.  _

_ He tries, he truly does. Making sure that every jump, every spin is perfect. Giving his everything into all the moves in their routine. But he’s tired. And sometimes, you can’t get past that. It reigns everything you do, dragging you down in the process.  _

_ He doesn’t remember the exact second it happened. He just feels his entire world being overtaken by bone crushing pain. He can’t hear himself screaming or see the blood.  _

Blood. __

_ The cries don’t belong to him.  _

_ His leg is on fire. The entire world is.  _

_ And the woman is still squealing.  _

_ It’s his fault. He failed.  _

_ He managed to infect everyone around him with his incompetence. _

_ He hurt a person who had a bright future ahead of them.  _

  
  


_ But she would survive. It was just him who got the death sentence.  _

  
  


“-nor! Connor, hey, are you okay?” 

There is no blood nor screams this time. Just an ample amount of curious byskaters drawn in by the commotion. Waiting around like their good time here relies on Connor getting over himself and acting like every other person who slips down every so often. But he shouldn’t have, that’s the entire issue. Not back then, not now. 

He nods and lets himself be pulled up by the comfortingly warm hand he got so used to holding. 

This is getting too much to handle and he doesn’t trust his feet to carry them both, not anymore. Even though Gavin’s skills have been improving quite nicely, he’s nowhere near willing to let him skate on his own. Not only for the fear of the man’s safety. 

He’s selfish like that. Wanting to keep everything for himself without having the faculties to take care of it the right way.

So he doesn’t say anything when Gavin sits them both down on one of the benches, not letting go of his shaking hand. 

He allows himself to be soothed by the kind fingers rubbing his gently, like he was a weak, fragile thing about to get shattered into million pieces. 

“You wanna talk?”

He doesn’t. But it’s hard to say no to the soft whisper that almost turned into tears. 

He can’t cry, he can’t reveal himself like that. Not here, not now. 

“Sorry. No.” 

Connor expects to be left alone after that. Instead his hand receives a reassuring squeeze. 

He is granted a silent sympathy. 

“Okay.”

#  ⛸️

Something bad happened, something much worse than just the two of them ending face down on the ice. 

And it had to be Tina and her girlfriend Carrey of all people. They exchanged a few words of concern and knowing looks but that was about it. Gavin will have to try extra hard to avoid the wily cupid the next few days if he wants to keep a piece of his dignity. 

But something snapped in that moment, something he doesn’t know how to fix. He doesn’t think it was his fault that they fell but he can’t tell for sure. Is Connor mad at him? Did he hurt him?

He wishes they could just  _ talk. _ He knows next to nothing about the man, only that he’d like to learn as much as Connor would let him. 

The few times they spoke with each other was about small, inconsequential things. Mostly ice skating. Connor seems to know all there is to it. He’s also a great teacher. 

Gavin might even be brave enough to try his luck on his own, if only that was something he actually wants to do. The only reason he’s still even here is sitting right next to him, looking like his entire family just died in a horrific accident. 

He doesn’t care if he might be starting to like ice skating itself. His only priority is Connor. After he’s okay again, then Gavin can start thinking about all the details. 

“Can I bring you something to drink?”

There is not much difference between this question and “Would you like to get something to drink with me?”, other then he can see himself bursting to flames when he pictures forming the latter. 

But he thinks about it, a lot. To the point it’s getting unbearable. About the two of them existing beyond this cold, noisy ice rink, about having a long, sincere conversation, about him meaning something to Connor. Something other than just a clumsy skater with a stupid crush. He takes pleasure in daydreaming about maybe being liked back, about Connor somehow having the potential to see beyond his harsh exterior, that he knows how deep he is falling every time he receives a small smile or a few words of encouragement. It has been a month and they’re still in the same, halting place. Gavin doesn’t know what to blame anymore. 

“No, thanks.”

And that is the one thing he’s scared about. Rejection. If there was a guaranteed “yes” he would have asked him out hundreds of times already. But he’s well aware that the likelihood of Connor agreeing is minimal and so he refrains from expanding his collection of scars. 

But he can’t just leave. Some force is keeping him physically stuck beside the trembling man. It could be that none of them has withdrawn their hands from the other’s grip yet. It’s embarrassing, inviting other people’s judgement, but he cares more about making sure that Connor is holding together than about those weak frailties of his. 

“I should go.”

_ Don’t. Stay with me _ . 

But he’s too weak to say those words out loud, so he just lets his hand be left to freeze by itself and buries his sights into that receding backside.

He managed to ruin this before it had the chance to properly begin. 

His heart sinks and the eventual impact hurts like a frostbite. 

And so he sits there, empty hands hiding his guilt-ridden face, bitter tears highlighting the whole look. He didn’t want this new mark, didn’t need another proof that he is nothing but an old screw-up. 

It’s so hard to give up, though. 

He still feels everything, as incorrupt as ever. He still imagines himself running after Connor, holding onto him, promising him that he will keep him happy no matter what. 

But that is all that it is. 

Just his desperate imagination. . 

#  ⛸️

He has been wallowing in self-pity and guilt for a week, letting it feast on his mind bit by bit, leaving behind leftovers of anger and self-loathing. 

He can’t do this anymore. He can’t keep risking entering the hell that wouldn’t let him go for a year. What was he thinking, letting himself get so close to someone that made him feel things he forgot he was capable of feeling. 

Connor cares about Gavin, in some sense or another, and that means that he has to keep himself far away from that man. 

Thinking that he’s ready to return to the one thing he loves isn’t enough to make it true. 

He hates himself for ever putting those damned skates on. What’s joy good for if it’s bound to turn into sorrow. If only he wasn’t so weak against his dreams. 

And now there is a new one. A dream about belonging to someone, about splitting himself and giving his one half away, about receiving a piece of that someone in return. 

His weakness is only proved by the tears he is furiously wiping away. The scar on his leg is aching from the inside, a numb pain that should by no means still be there. It’s letting him know that it won’t ever leave, that it’s there to stay. Forever. Only feeding his cowardly decision. 

Hank is gracing some watering hole with his presence and that means that there is nothing stopping his actions. Not even Sumo, who is lying on the couch with a guileless expression, unaware that soon it would be again just him and his grumpy human against the world. 

#  ⛸️

“I can’t believe what a dumb idiot you are.” 

There is an arm supporting him from the back, a warm flesh that makes him hate being touched. 

Touched by anyone else but Connor. 

“Yeah, me neither.”

He tagged along with Tina to get his hopes of ever seeing the pretty man with heart-stealing eyes mercilessly crushed. He hasn’t seen Connor in almost a week and that has been gradually dropping him down into the pits of his mental purgatory. Gavin did assume there being little to no chance of him showing up here with his hand outstretched for him to seize but. Waiting for him fruitlessly for the entire hour and half created a hole the size of the Moon inside of Gavin’s chest. 

This icy place is his only link to Connor. He doesn’t know his last name, what he does outside skating, where he lives… if only he asked for his cellphone number.  _ An idiotic moron.  _

But he wouldn’t be able to live on without just trying to find him. Even if it took ten years of regular ice rink visits, he wouldn’t close his heart to him. 

The thing is, Gavin doesn’t hold anything against him. It’s just that he doesn't know, doesn’t have a clue what kind of demons Connor keeps. The only thing he’s sure about is that he wants to help him. 

_ He wants them to be saved. _

And he would do almost anything to make that happen. Even if it meant admitting that he maybe likes ice skating, just a little bit. 

Luckily, Gavin is a _ genius  _ detective and so just passively awaiting his prince’s arrival like some distressed damsel won’t be necessary. 

He’s going to track him down, privacy policy be damned.

\---

He has been hypnotizing the google search bar for so long his overweight cat creature nestled in his lap for a good night’s sleep. Pressing one button could destroy all of his hopes for a future with Connor. They didn’t have to become more than friends if going beyond was something unattainable. Just having him in his life would be enough. 

So what would happen if he found out that the man he has been slowly falling for is a criminal, a fraud, or worse - that he doesn’t exist. Not that a simple google search would be able to confirm all that, but the big, asymmetrical enter button still intimidates him to no end. 

_ Okay, “Connor ice skating”, here we go. _

Oh.

Why the fuck didn’t he come to that conclusion by himself. It was pretty obvious, come think of it. 

Connor Anderson, a figure skater who got injured, ending up his career as a result. 

He clicks the first link to read more, feeling his blood pressure rise in his veins.

_ November 3rd, 2019 _

_ (…) an unfortunate accident resulted in America’s favourite, Connor Anderson, being hospitalized with a fractured leg. We have information that there are some complications and he might require a surgery in order to fully recover. As for now we can’t tell whether this injury will have a lasting effect on his career. _

_ His skating partner, Svietlana Bobrova, sustained minor cuts to her arm and leg from Anderson’s skates. (...) _

Connor had to stop doing the one thing he excels at. And for as much as Gavin knows him he can tell that he loves it, too. The way he just owns the ice surface, the palpable bliss that emanates from his smile, the way he wanted to share this with this silly old man that couldn’t help but get smitten by the whole of him. 

And he let Connor fall. He wasn’t strong enough to keep them up. 

No wonder the poor soul was so detached afterwards, it must have evoked the whole traumatic experience in his mind for the second time. 

He was tempted to give himself to regret, to beat himself over not doing something more for Connor, but he realized that wouldn't bring him anywhere close to the man and so he just browses all the sites that mention his name, gets distracted by all the photos that he definitely doesn’t save in a secret folder named  _ hot skating twink  _ and loses himself in the several youtube clips that he manages to dig up. He doesn’t even notice his eyelids growing heavy, doesn’t know when what he sees in front of himself becomes just a part of his dream. 

Connor is there with him, somewhere where the cold can’t get them, and they’re dancing. He can’t make out the details, but he feels Connor near him, swaying to some lulling melody. It’s all he ever wanted. Having someone that could make him dance - the thing he despises to his core. But he’s doing it willingly while being happy, the happiest he can remember. 

It’s just that he can’t breathe. 

His hands are urgently tugging at whatever is blocking his airways, his actions fairly repaid with a hiss and sharp claws ripping open his flesh. 

He swears his evil cat is trying to murder him and frame his neighbor for the crime. He wouldn’t put it past her, honestly. 

He begrudgingly bandages his fresh feline inflicted wounds and gets ready to begin his day full of investigating his crush. Gavin doesn’t realize how his behaviour could be interpreted as being an “unhinged stalker” were someone to find out to what lengths he is willing to go just to find 

Connor’s current location.

  
  


As he drives to the precinct he thinks about how he wants to find Connor just to annoy him with endless kisses as a punishment for leaving him without saying goodbye. 

\---

There has been a new murder and Gavin was the one that has been sent to the crime scene. Every other time he would be delighted by this opportunity but today he just wanted to focus on gathering useful information about Connor’s possible whereabouts. 

Just because the whiskey bottle of a lieutenant didn’t turn up on time, as is his habit, he has to stand in some creepy back alley, the onslaught of snowflakes getting caught by his unruly hair. 

The victim is some homeless guy who they have no way of identifying as for now, since the only thing he has on him is an old bible and a packet of bird seeds. He looks neater than most street dwellers, only the hole in his forehead ruins his representable appearance. 

But despite his looks Gavin can tell that this person hasn’t had a proper home in a long time. 

It could be read in the distinctive worn in his clothes, the thick beard that tries to present itself as intentional but on a closer look one could see how unkempt it really is, the unpleasant state of his skin that hasn’t had the chance to start decaying yet. 

This bird guy is the second one. They had an almost identical case just last week and Gavin already knows that they’re dealing with a serial killer without having to hear it stated officially. 

His cop instinct has rarely ever failed him and when Hank finally arrives at the office he’s ready to taunt the old man with possibly snatching the case from him. But when he finally does, something is off about him, Gavin can tell without the need to use his special hunch power for that. 

Gavin stares the man down as the lieutenant defeatedly slams his body in his chair and focuses on the nothing in front of him. 

He lets his thoughts run freely, feeling, or rather wishing that there might be some connection to his personal mission of finding Connor. Or maybe it’s the last desirous threat that the hope of ever locating the skater is loosely hanging on, since even after spending his entire lunch break searching for additional clues, he couldn’t discover anything substantial that would lead him to where Connor might be. 

_ Anderson. _ Hank Anderson. 

No, it couldn’t be. Unless… 

Everyone around here knows that the lieutenant has a son, but no one has ever met him or has an inkling about any particulars about him. 

And Connor looks nothing like the old grump but that doesn’t necessarily contradict the whole possibility. 

He tears up from his chair and wills his shaky legs to stand still in front of the distraught man. 

The subtle fear for Connor’s safety has grown from a tiny seed into an enraged beast that’s eager to set itself free. He’s able to tame it, for now. He has to, if he wants to find out whether his suspicions are based on reality. 

“Hank, I need to talk to you.” 

His voice only barely conceals the rising anxiety that is threatening to take control over his mind. 

“Go away, Reed, ‘am not in the mood for your bullshit.”

He figured his response would be something akin to that. 

But he needs to know. Because all he wants in his life is to see Connor one more time. To tell him all that has been boiling over in his heart. He wishes to thank him for taking his time to teach him how to skate, for showing him that even he can still be allowed to dream. 

He really just wants to make sure the man is doing fine. Just that would be enough to calm down the emotional storm that has been brewing in him for quite some time. 

“It’s about Connor.”

A blind man’s shot in the dark, so how could he not hit the right target. 

Hank’s eyes widen and he pierces him through with them. Then he rapidly pulls himself up and offers Gavin a scowl, a sad one he likes to believe. 

“What do you know.” 

It’s not presented as a question, but rather a command.  _ Spill _ . A given order that makes the puzzle pieces fit together. He’s chasing more than just Connor’s shadow now. He can almost make out his solid silhouette. 

“I’m looking for him.” 

He can’t divulge his personal connection to whom is most like Hank’s actual son. But those were the only words that found their way out of his mouth. 

  
  


“Connor’s gone.”

It doesn’t sound like he’s “dead” gone but he figures that it’s a serious matter nonetheless. 

Gavin wrestles with his urge to shout at the disgruntled man to give the answers for the questions his mind has a hard time constructing. 

Before he is able to win he’s already being served one of those desired responses. 

“He… he just straight out left the house, taking most of his stuff with him.” Hank dips his hand into his shirt pocket, his blue eyes glistening with what he thinks is disappointment. 

“This was addressed to you. I had no idea that him… and you were a .. thing.” The old man winces with the sentence, squeezing his eyes shut as he hands Gavin a small manilla envelope. 

He observes it without being able to produce one coherent thought, meaning correcting Hank’s wrong assumption is something he has to live without for now. 

_ A personal letter from Connor.  _ He can’t wait a second longer to read it. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But YOU'll have to wait for HOWEVER LONG IT TAKES ME TO POP OUT THE NEXT CHAPTER ahahah >D im sorry for being evil
> 
> ... a murder, in my ice-skating fic??? more likely than you think!!!
> 
> I'm quarantining myself in a self-made blanket fort so no ice skating for me (because i dont wanna die from the all the viruses oo) so I just had to compensate with a very hungry all-nighter 
> 
> I don't know if this chapter is any good it took me eight consecutive hours of labour to produce so.. I hope I won't have to rewrite it uhh
> 
> I hope that I'll be able to refrain myself from making this end tragically, because imagining these versions of idiot boys together just melts my puny heart oo 
> 
> anyway THANK YOU for submitting yourself to this :D 
> 
> have a nice virus season. 
> 
> wish you all happy survivals.


End file.
